


Five Times Face Said 'I Love You'

by loves_books



Category: A-Team (2010), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... And the one time he realised he didn't have to</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Face Said 'I Love You'

One

He doesn’t remember exactly how old he was, or where he first heard the words. Maybe it’s something subconscious, some memory buried in the back of his mind: maybe there was a time his own parents said it to him, before they left him behind. Or maybe it’s just something he’s picked up around the orphanage, the older boys talking, joking about their first girlfriends.

Certainly, it isn’t something that he remembers being told. No one has ever told young Templeton Peck that they love him. 

Still, he’s pretty sure he knows what it means, this ‘love’ thing. It’s all about liking someone a whole lot, being happy when they’re around. It’s all about them making you smile. And he thinks it’s about them giving you things as well, like when some of the kids at school talk about the new bikes they got for Christmas. He got a new scarf himself, a scratchy thing in cheap blue wool, but it’s new at least – he got to pull the tag off himself – and he doesn’t know how to ride a bike anyway. Still, the kids talk about loving their parents, and the older boys love their girlfriends, and, at the age of eight, Templeton tries to figure out who he loves.

Because everyone is supposed to love someone, right?

It doesn’t take long to come up with someone, from the relatively small circle of women in his life – he knows from bible class that men love women, not other men – and he wonders if he should tell her or not. Sister Mary Frances is one of the older nuns, not usually involved in the day to day running of the orphanage, but she always has a smile for the younger boys. She makes Templeton smile too, always joking about forgetting his name and pronouncing it wrong, and she was the nun who handed him the scarf at their Christmas party, saying it would match his eyes.

The older boys talk about things their girlfriends are willing to do for them after they’ve said it, and Templeton figures women must like hearing it, so one day, when his dorm are meant to be silently doing their homework, he plucks up the courage and walks over to where she sits, dozing slightly, behind the desk in the corner. Shaking her sleeve gently, he frowns when she doesn’t wake immediately.

“Sister?” he whispers, tugging harder, and this time she startles awake, a soft gasp on her lips.

“What is it?” she starts, taking a moment to focus her tired eyes on him. “Timothy? No, Tempy, what is it, child?”

Smiling – she always jokes about his name – Templeton holds out the drawing of a bunch of flowers he did at school that afternoon. He’s figured out from some of the kids at school that sometimes you give things to people you love, but he doesn’t have anything else to offer the kind nun. “For you, Sister,” he tells her. “I did this for you.”

Sister Mary Frances takes the picture and looks at it for a long moment, a smile on her wrinkled face. “It’s beautiful, child. Thank you very much.” She holds it a moment before placing it down gently on the desk. “Now, you should really be doing your homework, you know.”

“I know.” Templeton takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“Oh, child.” Her smile becomes a little sad, and the nun turns a little in her chair, facing Templeton and taking one of his hands in her own. “You’re a good boy, and a very sweet one.” With her free hand she reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes – it’s always too long, and too curly for a boy, Templeton thinks – and she sighs very softly.

Templeton bites his lower lip. She hasn’t said it back. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have drawn flowers. Maybe he shouldn’t have woken her up. “Sister - ?”

“You know God loves you, right, my boy?” Sister Mary Frances leans closer, her hand still in his hair. “And we’ll find you a family to love, who’ll love you too.”

He’s heard that before, many times over the years. None of them loved him so far. And he doesn’t think he would have loved any of them, either. Still, he keeps hearing about positive thinking, so he tells her, “I know, Sister. One day soon, right?”

“One day, child.” And with a final squeeze of his hand, she leans back in her chair, blinking her eyes as if tired again. “Now run along and get on with your homework.” She smiles that smile that Templeton loves, and he smiles back at her before heading back to his cubicle and his maths homework. 

Okay, she didn’t say it back, but she liked hearing it, he’s sure. This ‘love’ thing? Easy.

 

Two

He’s never felt this way about anyone before. It’s like he finally knows what all those sappy ballads are about, understands what people really mean when they talk about finding ‘the one’. She’s fantastic, she makes everything else seem unimportant, and he just knows this is the real thing.

Charissa is everything he’s always wanted from a girlfriend, although if you’d asked him exactly what he wanted a few months ago he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer. He knows his reputation, enjoys it in fact: he’s the playboy of the team, the one with a different girl on his arm every night. He long ago perfected the art of the one night stand, and he prides himself in leaving very few broken-hearts behind him. He’s never been out to hurt anyone, and he’s sure most of his former flames speak fondly of him.

At first, he’d been pretty sure Charissa was going to be just another quick fling, the beautiful dark-haired Lieutenant just passing through his base and looking to play. But he found himself completely captivated by her, this brilliant, quick-witted woman who challenges him in every possible way. And it doesn’t hurt that the sex is absolutely mind-blowing.

He knows the rest of his team are wary of her, which makes him more than a little frustrated. Hannibal hasn’t said anything to him directly, but Face has caught a few raised eyebrows when he dashes into a meeting at the last possible minute after a night away with her, or when he mentions her name in conversation. BA has kept his distance from her too, not ignoring her but barely speaking to her when Face brings her over for dinner with them all. Charissa acts cool but distant towards them, far more relaxed when they are by themselves, away from the team. 

Face wishes he didn’t have to split his time between his team mates and his girlfriend, but he can understand her reaction. And he can understand his team’s reaction, too. They’re a close group of men, a family unit more than anything, and they’ve never seen him in a serious relationship before. Murdock especially has kept his distance from Face since he started seeing Charissa regularly, and Face finds he misses his best friend bouncing in to see him, crowding into his personal space, turning up at his door with a crate of beer and a pile of DVDs. Even on missions, Murdock has been more subdued with him than he ever has before. The jokes and funny voices have all but dried up and, even though Murdock is still right by his side, Face misses his best buddy more than he thought possible.

Still, Face thinks he knows exactly how he feels about Charissa. He’s never been the one to say it first, usually ending his relationships long before his partner ever gets as far as saying it either, but tonight it feels right. Walking arm in arm towards her tiny apartment, the clear sky above them twinkling with stars, the moment feels perfect, and he slows their pace a little, slipping his arm around her slender waist to pull her even closer.

“Charissa,” he starts, then stops, finding his usual ease with words deserting him.

She turns to him, one eyebrow quirked up. “You okay, Face?”

“More than okay, baby.” He leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Charissa immediately responds, reaching up to seize a handful of his hair, tugging him down and deepening the kiss. After a few minutes, they each pull back at the same time, and Face is pleased to see he isn’t the only one breathing hard. And then it just slips out. “God, I love you.”

Charissa stiffens in his arms, and for a moment Face thinks he sees panic flash through her beautiful brown eyes. But in the next moment, she melts back into his embrace, putting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his back. “Oh, Face,” she breathes, voice slightly muffled by his jacket, and he waits to see if she offers anything else, his heart beating fast in his chest.

But after a minute, she pulls all the way back, taking his hand in hers and starting them moving again, walking on towards her place. “Charissa, sweetheart - ” 

“Come on, baby, let’s get inside. It’s getting cold out here.” She won’t meet his gaze, but she squeezes his hand tightly, and he feels more than a little confused. Then, suddenly, she stops dead, turning to him and rising up on tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” she whispers with a smile. “Now come on in, I’ve bought something new I think you might like. Something with a whole lot of black lace…”

Well he certainly isn’t going to say no to that, and he follows her more than enthusiastically into her apartment block. It isn’t as if he was expecting her to say it back immediately. Hoped, maybe. But they’ve got time. Face just knows she’s the one.

________

Eight days later, he wonders how he could possibly have got it so wrong. She’s already left, on her way to Washington and her new job. She didn’t want a long-distance relationship, just wanted a clean break, although he tried to convince her otherwise, telling her again and again that he loved her, that they could make it work. That lead to shouting and fighting, screaming matches he doesn’t want to remember, that he’s already managed to partly block out thanks to copious amounts of alcohol.

His team don’t know how to be around him, and to be honest he doesn’t really want company apart from his vodka. Unless there’s some scotch he hasn’t drunk yet. Sitting on his sofa, staring blankly as the television flickers silently in the corner, he wonders for the hundredth time why she left.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Murdock?” He blinks rapidly as the room suddenly gets a lot brighter – when did it get dark? – and he looks up to see his friend standing in the doorway, one hand on the light switch. “How did you get in?”

“Spare key, remember?” In two steps, Murdock is across the room and sitting close next to him on the sofa, one hand resting gently on his knee, the other lifting the mostly empty bottle from his hand. “Let me take that, buddy.” And Face is beyond caring, letting his gaze drift back to the television. “How you doin’, Facey?”

For the first time since she left him, the question doesn’t make him want to run screaming from the room. Perhaps he’s just too tired to rant and rave any more, perhaps it’s just the quiet way Murdock asks, or perhaps it’s the friendly touch. He heaves a sigh and just says, “I love her.” And lets his friend pull him into a tight hug as the tears fall again.

 

Three

Floating. He’s definitely floating, everything light and floaty. What’s another word for floaty? Frothy, fluffy, hmm…

“Flying…” he mumbles, and the sound of his own voice makes him giggle a little, the sound echoing around him.

“Facey?” Ooh, someone else is talking now, sounding far, far away. He wonders where they are, and why he can’t see them. “Face? You awake, buddy?”

Oh yeah. Eyes still closed. He tries to open them but they seem to be pretty well glued together. He giggles again instead, and someone takes his hand, squeezing gently. “Flying,” he says again, though now it feels like they’re holding him down a little, so he tries to take his hand back.

“Easy there, Lieutenant.” A different voice this time, deeper and more commanding, and Face tries to calm down a little. “Open your eyes for me, kid.” 

He tries again to peel his eyes open, and the glue gives way this time. Blinking for a moment, he tries to figure out what exactly he’s seeing. Not what he expected certainly, especially if he’s flying. “Pink…” he murmurs, managing to tilt his head to one side. The whole room does a loop-the-loop around him and he giggles again. “It’s all pink.”

“What the hell, man?” Yet another voice, and now he’s a little confused. Just how many people are there flying out here with him? 

“Facey?” That first voice again, and he thinks it’s attached to whatever is holding his hand, so he blinks around until he figures out who it is.

“Murdock!” His friend’s floating head looms closer over him, and he loses focus for a moment. “Elephants, man…”

A pause. “Where are the elephants, Facey?” 

“Flying elephants.” He feels like he should explain a little more than that. “In the pink, Murdock. Elephants.”

“Well, I suppose this makes a change from him throwing up.” That deep, commanding voice again, and with delight Face figures out who it is, who it must be. He rolls his head on the cloud acting as his pillow, and eventually spots his colonel.

“You’re purple, Hannibal,” he tells the older man seriously. It’s a good colour for his friend, making his silver hair and blue eyes really stand out. “Can you see the elephants too?”

“You’re on some pretty strong drugs right now, Face.” Hannibal sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Somewhere in the pink he can hear someone else actually laughing, and he frowns a little. What’s so funny? “Do you remember what happened?”

Something happened? Did the elephants do something? Maybe he forgot how to fly. “Pink elephants, boss,” he says, trying to sound confident. “It was them.”

“Man, he’s really stoned!” That laughter again from the back of the room, and he manages to focus on BA, who has horns. Why does BA have horns? “Wish I was filmin’ this!”

“Bosco!” Everyone’s here, along with all the elephants. “You’re not purple!”

“Good to hear, brother!” BA floats a little closer, and hovers next to Murdock. “You’re okay, Faceman, it’s all just the drugs making you see things.”

“Horns…” He lifts his free hand to try and touch those impressive horns on his friend’s head, but his arm seems to stretch off into infinity. He watches, amazed, as his hand vanishes behind one of the elephants, who is sitting on a pink cloud. “This is a very cool place…”

“Easy, Facey.” Murdock again. Murdock just looks like Murdock, which is good. Although there is a tiny mouse sitting on his shoulder, so Face stares at that. “You’re in the hospital, and the docs tried you with some new drugs, hopin’ you wouldn’t throw up after surgery. And you haven’t, which is good! You hurtin’ anywhere?”

He frowns, concentrating hard for a moment. He can’t actually feel most of his body, so he figures no pain. “I’m good, buddy. Flying, right?”

Murdock gently reaches across and rests one hand on his forehead. The mouse runs down his arm and vanishes into the cloud. “Right, Facey. You’re flyin’ pretty high right now.” He starts stroking Face’s forehead very gently. “Why don’t you just close your pretty eyes and get some more sleep? The elephants’ll be gone when you wake up.”

But he loves the elephants. “I love the elephants,” he tells Murdock, and his friend just nods, smiling. The slow strokes across his forehead continue, and he feels his head growing heavier, sinking down into the soft, soft cloud. It’s bliss, sheer heaven. “I love you, Murdock.” And he really, really does; this wonderful man is soothing his floating mind, anchoring him in the clouds.

“I know, Facey. Go to sleep.”

“Really, I love you…” And his eyes are suddenly too heavy, that glue pulling them shut again, and he floats back off into the pink, the soft voice of his friend blending in with the mice who sing him a lullaby from his blankets. 

 

Four

This is something he’s good at: being the smooth-talking ladies’ man, making the women fall at his feet. Years of practise, knowing what to say at the right time, knowing just what to do to make the women melt into his arms. But this one? Not falling for his act as fast as the others have. Not falling as fast as the team needs her to fall, not giving anything away. 

It’s the oldest con in the book, and it never gets boring for him. This is one of the rare jobs where Hannibal is actively encouraging him to go after the wife, rather than dragging him away and reminding him to keep focussed, to not let his dick do the thinking for him. So as well as being work, this is kind of fun for him. Though he’s doing his best to show the team he is still focussed, still working towards their ultimate goal, checking in with Hannibal when he stays away for the night, texting Murdock or BA when he’s out of contact for too long. 

The disillusioned wife of a local Mob boss, so not the easiest of targets, but Face gets the impression she’s used to playing around, having a little boy-toy on the side. She’s definitely interested in him, all flirty fun, treating him to dinner in posh restaurants and nights in luxury hotel suites. The confident older woman, clearly enjoying having a handsome younger man on her arm, and Face is enjoying the opportunity to dress in his finest suits for once, being spoiled rather than being the one doing the spoiling. And all the while, Hannibal and the others keep working other lines of enquiry, trying to find the information they need to take her cruel husband down.

Her husband doesn’t seem too bothered by his wife’s activities, although Face doesn’t have to act too hard to play his role of the nervous suitor. He’s been on the wrong end of jealous husbands before, and throw in the local Mafia? This is one man he really doesn’t want to mess with. Murdock especially keeps sending him little messages, asking if he’s woken with a horse’s head in his bed yet, telling him to watch his back. 

As the weeks pass and the team keep hitting dead ends, Face steps up his assault on the wife. She keeps mentioning little things about her husband, but not enough detail to give the team a way in. Still playing the slightly nervous lover, he tries to think of something new he can try to get her to trust him. He’s already tried opening up to her about his ‘failed marriage’, about the ‘woman that broke my heart’, but she takes that as a sign he needs serious comforting rather than talking. That leads to one incredible night in a penthouse that he will never forget, but doesn’t get them any closer to finding out what her husband is up to.

She likes him vulnerable, he’s figured that out, but clearly too vulnerable just makes her shut down. He tried taking charge a little, but she backed off completely, and for a horrible few days he thought he’d lost her altogether, leading to one hell of a lecture from Hannibal. There must be some middle ground he’s missing, something that will get her talking. 

And then it comes to him, the one thing neither of them have said. She’s made it clear from the beginning that this won’t go anywhere, this fling they’re having, and Face is fine with that – or rather, the character he is playing is fine with that. So it might be the one way to ruffle her feathers, to break her down a little…

Over dinner that night, at another incredible expensive restaurant, he stays quieter than normal, letting her do all the talking. Eventually, she seems to notice how subdued he is, and takes one of his hands gently in hers. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asks, her voice as deep and sexy as it always is.

Face heaves a sigh, deliberately not meeting her eye. “Nothing, Simone. I’m fine, everything’s fine.”

“No, you’ve been so quiet tonight.” Her cool hand squeezes his tightly. “You aren’t enjoying this? Is the food bad?”

“No, the food is fantastic, as is the company.” Face looks up a little, fluttering his eyelashes as if nervous. “You’ve been so good to me, sweetheart.”

She preens a little at that. Face knows she likes it when he calls her by a pet name – she was particularly overjoyed the one time he called her ‘snugglebunny’, slightly sarcastically, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to use it in public since. “I’m having a whole lot of fun with you, Christopher. I hope you know that.” She twines her fingers into his, and Face lets his gaze slip to their joined hands.

“That’s just it, Simone,” he whispers, pleased when she leans a little closer, a tiny frown-line appearing on her botoxed brow. “This is more than just fun for me. I think - ”

“Oh, Christopher…” She tries to pull back a fraction, but Face tightens his hand, keeping her close.

“I love you.” The words hang in the air between them, and for a moment she doesn’t move. Face watches her carefully, keeping his expression a mixture of anxiety and nerves, waiting to see if his gamble has worked. This might push her away for good, costing him any chance of finding out the information his team needs.

After a moment he sees her sag a little, her carefully made-up face falling a little. “I thought you understood, baby. I’m married. I won’t leave my husband.”

“I don’t understand, Simone. I thought I did, but I don’t. He’s never around, and you never talk about him except to say how terrible he is.” Don’t lay it on too thick, he cautions himself, even as he lets a little anger show in his voice. 

It seems to work though, his ice queen melting a little, as he hoped she would. “Oh, Christopher. My sweet, sweet man. I didn’t think that you… I never thought that you would… I didn’t mean for you to fall in love with me.” She looks genuinely upset, and Face hardens his heart, refusing to feel sorry for her. “My husband… Yes, he’s difficult, but he’s my husband. We’ve never really talked about him, have we? I didn’t want to bring him into this, but if it will help you…?”

He nods, faking a sniffle, letting his eyes fill a little. “I think it would. Who is he, what does he do? What does he have that I don’t?”

Simone pulls him towards her across the table, kissing him softly on the lips. “Okay, baby,” she breathes, pulling back slightly. “Let’s talk…” And they do, for the next two hours, until the waiters start cleaning up around them, closing up the restaurant. Face lets her do most of the talking, asking a few leading questions, directing the conversation as she opens up about her husband and some of his more shady business dealings.

When he slips away from her the next morning, he finally has a lead for Hannibal, a starting point. His team are thrilled with the breakthrough, and Murdock especially seems happy that he doesn’t have to spend every minute he can with Simone any more. All because of those three little words.

 

Five

Their team is more than a little different than every other Special Forces unit, and they all take a great deal of pride in that fact. Successful mission follows successful mission, spectacular feats of bravery followed by undercover work so deep not even the base commander knows exactly where they’ve been. 

A huge part of their success is down to Hannibal Smith, and his incredible planning and strategic skills, as well as his sheer command presence and charisma. But each of them brings something special to the team, and all of them are proud of their skills and unashamed to admit that. BA with his amazing mechanical and engineering talents, combined with his sheer brute strength. Murdock with his ability to fly any machine built by man, coupled with his encyclopaedic mind and gift with languages. And Face as XO, charming and scamming his way to whatever the team needs, anticipating what they need before they even know it, as well as his more practical skills, sharpshooting and tactical, years spent learning from the best. Learning from Hannibal.

Face knows it’s more than that, though. Four outstanding Rangers, yes, but there’s more to their team that just raw talent. Their little Band of Brothers is just that, a family of sorts, and Face loves each of his team mates in their own special way, and he knows they love him too.

They don’t talk about it, of course they don’t. They’re men, tough men at that, and it’s easier to show they care by teasing and joking and laughing around the subject. When BA calls Murdock ‘Crazy Fool’ and Face ‘Pretty Boy’, they both know it isn’t meant with any venom, just affection. When Hannibal shouts at one of them for taking stupid risks on a mission – and they’ve all been on the receiving end of that lecture at one time or another – they might hate it at the time, but they know they worried their Colonel, and none of them ever do it deliberately. Face sometimes gets to shout at Hannibal for the same reason, when the boss does something too batshit crazy even for him.

Thinking about it though, Face realises he has said it to each of them at one time or another, and not during the times he expected. Not when one of them is badly injured and in need of reassurance. Not when they’ve been drunk, or not that he remembers at least. So maybe, when he’s been drunk.

Of all of them, Murdock is most often in need of comfort. When the demons in his mind get too strong, when his meds get knocked out of whack for some reason, when he spends nights screaming at shadows, his team mates take turns in talking him down, bringing him back to them. As the years have gone by, they’ve all developed different ways of coping, depending on how their friend is behaving. Face usually finds that holding Murdock works best, just holding him tightly, anchoring him in reality rather than the nightmares created by his unreliable mind. He listens and then he talks, whether or not his friend can hear him, whispering words of reassurance as his best friend shakes in his arms.

“You’re safe, buddy, you’re safe with me. I’ve got you, the monsters can’t get you now. We’re all safe, BA’s safe, Hannibal’s safe, I’m safe, don’t worry. You aren’t on your own, Murdock, I’m here. I won’t leave you, Murdock, I’m not going anywhere. I love you, buddy, and I’m not gonna leave you.” 

And Murdock always cuddles closer when he says it, burying himself in Face’s arms. And the nightmares pass sooner or later.

BA is probably the quietest member of the team, and at the same time the strongest, physically and mentally, though the big guy isn’t afraid to say the words. Face hears him on the phone to his Mom, telling her how much he loves her, and none of them would dare mock him for that. For the same reasons, none of them mock him too seriously about his fear of flying, although it’s obviously a problem and even BA knows it.

From time to time, it gets to BA, usually after Face or Hannibal has had to either knock him out or physically sit on him during a flight. After ranting at Murdock for a while about Mexico, the corporal will go quiet, taking himself off and dismantling his bike, or working on whatever vehicle the team are using at the time. From anyone else it would be a sulk – and Face knows all about sulking, he’s the master of sulking until he gets his own way – but from BA he knows it’s simply embarrassment and shame at what he sees as a failing.

Face just takes a couple of beers over, popping the tops with one of BA’s tools, and starts coaxing his friend back out of his shell. “Come on, man, we all got our weaknesses. Makes us special, right? You know I love you anyway, brother, even if I can’t get you on a chopper without slipping something in your drink!” 

And BA looks suspiciously at his beer before Face laughs, changing the topic, and soon his friend is himself once again.

Hannibal is a whole other kettle of fish, their fearless leader, the man Face respects most in the whole world. Always so strong, always so in control. The man with a plan, three steps ahead at least. But, as XO and close friend, Face gets to see the rare moments of self-doubt, the moments where Hannibal can’t quite see a solution to a problem, or after something has gone wrong and his colonel is blaming himself even if he won’t say it out loud.

Usually Hannibal talks himself around, with Face carefully steering the other man’s thoughts and nudging him in the right direction. But sometimes, Hannibal gets lost in what-might-have-been, and the only way to snap him out of it is to lay things on the line. Face digs his heels in and just lectures Hannibal, thinking how lucky he is to have a CO who will let him get away with this on occasion.

“There was no way you could’ve known about the IED, boss,” he starts, after a mission gone bad. “Not even you could know that was there.”

“Should’ve known it was possible, Lieutenant.” Hannibal is pacing, chewing fiercely on his cigar. “Should’ve kept you out of there. For fuck’s sake, if Murdock hadn’t been there - ”

“But he was there. I’m fine, Murdock’s fine. BA will be fine in a couple of days.” But still Hannibal paces, and Face heaves a sigh. “What is it you always tell me? Shit happens, and we deal with it, right? You know this doesn’t change anything; you’re still the best.”

“Face…” A low growl.

“You couldn’t have known, Hannibal,” he insists, aiming for a light-hearted tone. “Come on, boss, you know none of us blame you. I don’t blame you. I respect the hell out of you, I love you, I admire you, for all your crazy planning and bad-ass missions. I wouldn’t change a thing, you know that. But sometimes shit just happens and you gotta get over it. You’re good but you’re not God, Hannibal.”

And at that, Hannibal finally cracks a smile, his pacing slowing a little. He nods a little, acknowledging the truth in what Face has said even if, as the lieutenant knows all too well, he’ll still beat himself up over it for a while, until BA is out of medical at least. But for now, Face just nods back, satisfied he’s pulled his CO out of rare funk, and leaves the man to his own thoughts.

This team of his? Definitely more like a family, and Face wouldn’t change that for all the world.

 

…And One

Sometimes he wonders, if the whole mess with the plates and the disaster at the LA docks hadn’t happened, if he and Murdock would have ended up together at all. He wonders at first if it isn’t just the pressure of being on the run, the impossibility of getting close to anyone else, that pushed the two of them into each other’s arms. Stress relief, maybe, or getting rid of the tension the only way left to them.

So, they fuck. Long and hard when they can, roughly gagging each other in rooms with walls far too thin to hide anything. Quick and desperate at other times, spit instead of slick, crammed into whatever tiny space will give them a moment of privacy. Face isn’t stupid – he’s sure Hannibal and BA both know exactly what is going on, though neither of them are in any position to complain. And they can find their own method of stress relief for all Face cares; they aren’t in the army anymore and rank has no meaning in this strange new life they are living, except as a gesture of complete and utter respect for their colonel.

He isn’t quite sure when the Fucking changes to Making Love. Long and hard turns into caressing and stroking, strong bodies sliding smoothly together as they savour whatever time they can have alone. Face finds himself watching Murdock more and more as they work, admiring the pilot’s wiry physique in a way he’s never let himself before, watching the play of muscles in slender arms and strong back. He finds himself looking forward to the nights when the team can afford two motel rooms instead of one, or, even better, when he can manage to scam them a decent house or apartment for a couple of days. Because those are the nights he can hold Murdock close in his arms, when Murdock can hold him in return.

He enjoys the cons less and less, the times where Hannibal sends him after some blonde thing in a short skirt, or some secretary with a fashionable pair of glasses. Oh, he still does his job – and that is his job, more and more often now, flirting their way to victory – but he doesn’t take the same kind of pleasure in it that he used to. He finds he longs for hard muscle now rather than soft curves. For one of a thousand accents or personalities, all wrapped up in one package.

Murdock never asks for anything, always seeming more than happy to do whatever Face suggests, whenever they can, which isn’t to say he doesn’t have his moments of spontaneity. In fact, Face finds himself looking forward to the moments when his new lover jumps him in the shower, or kisses him awake gently in the morning. It amazes him, how well the two of them fit together, how well this new aspect of their relationship fits into their friendship. It’s as if they’ve been doing this for years, rather than months.

And it isn’t purely physical. How can it be, when they’ve been each other’s closest friends for nearly nine years? When every minute of the day they can still joke together, still talk about anything and everything. Only now, Face sees Murdock’s brilliance in a new light, his comic timing, his random facts and figures. He can read every play of emotion across that handsome face, and wonder why he never realised just how handsome the other man is, in his own unique way. 

There isn’t a blinding moment of clarity. It isn’t like it was with Charissa, when he wondered for a long time before he finally thought he’d figured everything out (and look how well that turned out for them both). It isn’t like the feelings he has for Hannibal and BA, for his family of choice. All those other times he’s used the words so casually, working a con, and he’s never felt like this. 

It’s as if he just woke up one morning and knew. This feels so much a part of him that there is no surprise when he realises. Of course he loves Murdock, he’s loved him for years, but he’s also in love with him. Maybe has been in love with him for years, just never realising it until now. And again, he wonders if they would ever have reached this moment if the army hadn’t screwed them over so badly. He wonders if he could ever go back to the way things used to be between them, and knows deep down that he wouldn’t survive it. 

He knows Murdock well after all these years, and he thinks his friend – no, his lover – has maybe wanted this to happen between them for a long time. Hindsight is a bitch, and he tries not to think about some of the looks he’s caught from the other man over the years, about the worry and pain he might have caused. They’re together now, and that’s all that matters. Except, he worries now that Murdock doesn’t know how deeply Face really feels for him. That maybe, like Face himself did at first, Murdock thinks this is only because they have few choices in their life any more.

Because every time he tells Murdock, his lover just smiles.

Collapsing onto Murdock’s chest, shivering as the aftershocks of another spectacular orgasm thrum through his body, feeling his lover’s strong arms come up to cradle him, he lets his head sink into the crook of Murdock’s neck, finding that spot where he fits just perfectly, and he whispers into the quiet room, “I love you.”

Murdock pulls him even closer, peppering his head with kisses, still shaking from his own orgasm, and in the confusing silence Face falls helplessly into sleep.

Over dinner together, a rare evening when both Hannibal and BA are out preparing for their next job, Face tries to set the mood, keeping the radio tuned to a music station rather than having the television on, lighting an old candle he found in a drawer. Murdock is delighted, hamming up his southern accent for all it’s worth and declaring, “Why, Mr Peck, are you tryin’ to romance me?”

“Only the best for the man I love,” he tells him with what he hopes is a warm smile, sliding two plates of food onto the table. Okay, so it’s only burgers and fries from the drive-thru, but – 

“Ooh, my favourite!” A huge smile spreads across Murdock’s face, and Face feels the warmth spread through his chest as his lover tucks in. Maybe the other man just isn’t ready to say it yet, so he focuses all his attention on making their ‘date’ the best he possibly can.

After a job gone ‘slightly awry’ – Hannibal’s phrase, most definitely not his – Murdock is the one who takes care of his injuries. Face just lies there as he watches his lover virtually chase their team mates out of the motel room before coming back to his side, adjusting the heat pack over his aching ribs and checking the bandages around his arm. “Oh, Facey.”

“I’m okay, Murdock,” he murmurs, trying to breathe shallowly. But his lover keeps fussing, not meeting his gaze, and Face reaches up carefully to capture one shaking hand in his own. “Murdock, look at me.”

“Does it hurt a lot, baby?” Brown eyes still won’t meet his. “God, I could’ve lost you today, I can’t - ”

“Look at me,” he insists, raising his voice slightly, wincing when his ribs shift awkwardly. He immediately forces a smile when Murdock looks up at him, heart breaking a little at the sheer terror he can see in those chocolate eyes. “I’ll be fine, I promise. You aren’t losing me. Never gonna happen.” He drops his voice back to a whisper as Murdock leans closer, some of the panic starting to fade at last. “You know how much I love you, right?”

And finally, Murdock smiles, closing the last inches between them and kissing Face’s bruised lips softly. “I know, baby. Just rest for me now, okay?”

So what else can he think? That maybe, just maybe, he’s reading this whole thing wrong, and maybe it’s Charissa all over again. Maybe he should back off, cool things between them. Maybe Murdock can’t say it back because he really doesn’t feel it, maybe his lover is just too sweet to say no to him. And that thought just about breaks his heart in two. 

So it comes as a surprise one afternoon when, with Murdock sitting close by his side, one arm wrapped carefully around his still-healing ribs, his lover suddenly announces, “You know they say actions speak louder than words, right, Facey?”

Not at all sure where the other man is going with this conversation, he pauses a second before answering. “Yeah, man. You’re talking to the conman here; it’s all about body language and - ”

“Not exactly what I mean, baby,” Murdock stops him gently, sounding as serious as Face has ever heard him. His heart starts beating a little faster – is this the conversation he’s dreaded? “You and me, Facey. We’re good right?”

“No, buddy. We’re great.”

“And, without sounding like a teenage girl, this whole thing is a dream come true for me. Y’know, apart from the whole being-on-the-run thing. And the no-jobs, no-home, no-friends…” Murdock carefully rests his head against Face’s shoulder, cuddling as close as he can. “What does it tell you when I do this?”

“Murdock…”

A clever hand presses gently into his denim-clad groin. “And when I do this?” He can’t quite keep back the moan as long fingers start to massage him. “Or this?” And suddenly his lover raises his head, claiming his mouth in a bruising, possessive kiss, stealing all his air. After what feels an eternity, jeans now uncomfortably tight and chest starting to ache just a little, Murdock pulls back a fraction, leaning his forehead onto Face’s. “What does all that tell you, baby?”

And suddenly, it’s all clear. The times Murdock holds him close, the little looks and touches, the smile that lights up his face when he tells him - “I love you. And you love me.”

That huge smile he loves so much appears in an instant, and crystal clear eyes sparkle with joy. “I ain’t so good with the words, Facey. That’s your job, okay?” There’s something in the pilot’s eyes he can’t quite read, something dark and in the past tense, but more than that there is love shining there too, and he can’t believe he hasn’t seen it before. Murdock’s voice is low and intense as he whispers, “But actions - ”

“ – Speak louder than words.” He cranes forward to kiss that perfect mouth again, and again, and again, until Murdock is shaking against him from need. “You love me? You really love me?”

“Insecure much?” Murdock giggles a little, pressing even closer. “Yes, baby, yes. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?” The hand at his groin squeezes again then his lover stands suddenly, and Face whimpers involuntarily at the loss of contact, until Murdock reaches to take his hand, tugging him to his feet. “Come on, I think you need me to tell you again, a little louder this time perhaps?”

“Let’s scream it from the rooftops, baby!” And as his lover guides him back towards the bedroom, he realises that he’s been reading everything wrong, in the best possible way. He’s been listening too hard, rather than looking. They don’t need to say it out loud – Murdock has shown him how much he loves him every second of every day, in a thousand ways, and Face makes a silent promise, as his lover strips him naked and pushes him gently to the bed, that he will spend the rest of his life showing Murdock the same thing. 

If he uses those three little words too much, they can lose their meaning, but this? He always knew Murdock was smarter than him, but now, as his lover literally makes him scream from pleasure, as he can’t help but shout “God, I love you, man!”, he finally recognises Murdock’s tender smile for what it is. It’s love, and nothing’s going to change that, whatever life might throw at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written or hoodoo123 at ATeam-Prompts:
> 
> Cute, funny, serious, smarmy, facetious, lying, conning . . . whatever the situation, Face had to say "I love you" to someone.


End file.
